The Putrefaction of the Meat on The Bone

“There is a stir of dust from old leaves
Will you trade roses for acorns…”

- Ezra Pound, from Canto 79


The air is thick these days with the regurgitation of lies to the point of a strange dissonance over the country. So much vile trading back and forth you can almost hear the cries and screams of a prison tier echoing from the quiet neighborhoods of suburbia. The tense moments of a car backfiring at a public event will send the hairs on the back of your neck straight up. You turn on the television or radio and you are bombarded with the language of dead citizens back to the Plymouth landing twirling in their graves for stillness. Bile reeks in the ear at a decibel previously unknown to man. Television used to be a respite from the haggard existence of daily life but now you are bombarded not only commercially but also morally and philosophically.
The election of 2000 and the shrieking and fraudulent success of the Right Wing changed this country more than any election in its relatively short history. Not only do the inmates have the keys to the weapons bin they also have the archaic task of carrying out a doctrine of raising the maggots to the living corpse, sometimes at birth. What little freedom this country has anymore will fall, collapse, and crumble at the very hands of the American public. Many of the voters that elected this wall of fascism around them will now criticize the war in Iraq but will unwaveringly support the domestic policy. How do you know you’re insane America? When you cannot see the trees for the forest? No, you are insane when you grovel at the feet of your own demise.



- Chris Mansel